


Weight.

by Significant_Other



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Agender Frisk, But I shall improve, Cool shit you think of at 3 in the morning, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative, Tags are a skill that I have yet to perfect, Time Shenanigans, Weird magic headcanon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-28 23:36:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6350197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Significant_Other/pseuds/Significant_Other
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The funny thing about infinity is that as soon as you put it into an equation, the answer will always be infinite. </p>
<p>The funny thing about magic is that it plays by no rules but its own, and the more rules you know the more you get to break. </p>
<p>The funny thing about time is that if you go far enough in one direction you come back out the other end, but if you know how to go sideways you can go farther than you could possibly imagine. </p>
<p>The funny thing about the oceans is that no matter how big they are there is always a bigger one, oceans of water give way to oceans of earth give way to oceans of sky. </p>
<p>And the funny thing about happiness, Is that you only have it when you don't know it. And frisk knows a great deal indeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End.

Sans stood in the hall of judgment. It was one of the few places in the underground that one could stand in sunlight , recycled sunlight but sunlight nonetheless. The crystals just picked it up outside and vomited it out. It looks nice at least.  
Sans could feel Frisk approaching. Feel it in his bones. The hall resonated with magic. The energy was so dense you could taste it. Sharp and acrid, it tasted like ozone smelled. Sans knew that simply being near this much energy was dangerous. That the magic, if absorbed in huge enough quantities, could mutate a monsters magic. Melting them from the inside out because their magic could no longer hold onto itself. Sans knew but didn't particularly care.  
Frisks magic swept across the room in a tide. It became so dense that light was starting to behave like a liquid. Magic tended to do that. Get enough of it together in one place it broke the world around it. Thin rivulets of light were starting to condense on the walls and floor of the hall. Streams of light ran down from the windows. Sans knew that it was impossible to slow down light. The speed of light was a constant unchangeable. Frisk was doing it anyway. "I should be blind right now," Sans thought. "If the light is pooled on the floor then how am I seeing?" Sans shrugged "Not really worth wondering about. Magic likes contradictions after all." Golden pools grew on the floor as light crushed out of the very air by the immense pressure of Frisks approaching soul.  
The floor was beginning to flicker. Time too was being compressed. The tiles of the hall shifted and contracted as they tried to figure out when they were, dancing between Cracked tiles, polished marble, and rough gravel.  
Frisk turned into the hallway. The magic fell like a mountain. The pools of light were blown from the floor. Streaking past Sans in glowing ribbons. And in the absence of any light, the room was being filled with dark. Creeping ahead of Frisk was a wave of what looked to be fog. It glistened like oil as it bled through the light like an inkblot. The corpses of colors shone on it as the tide of dark skittered along the floors and ceiling. The only area unaffected by the onslaught was the patch of floor Sans stood in. A teardrop shaped area of calm surrounded him. His own not inconsiderable magic acting as a shield against Frisks. Above him a blue haze was forming as conduits of magic snapped and reformed.*  
By the time you got within 5 feet of Frisk reality was being compressed with such violence that the world lost all color. Around Frisks feet was a circle of what wasn't white. It couldn't Be white. White wasn't bright enough. White was far too dark. It was simply... Blank. And in the center of the blank stood Frisk, looking the same as they always did. Medium length brown hair, pink and purple sweater, jeans that didn't reach past their ankles, about 4 foot 5. The only striking thing about Frisk was their eyes. They were perpetually closed but not quite all the way closed, Just barely open. A thin line separated Frisks eyelids. And from it, a red mist poured and rose toward the ceiling. Silhouetted against the noncolor of Frisks bleached surroundings the crimson fog seeping from beneath Frisks eyelids twisted and spun like smoke from a pyre.  
Frisk stopped in front of Sans. Sans grinned or kept grinning. Frisk stared, probably. Sans tilted his head jovially and removed his hands from his pockets.

And then two immensely powerful entities traded nothing. But that is not to say that they did not trade anything. And the world was in a small and insignificant way. Much better.


	2. Sometime around the middle. Depending on how you count it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I like short chapters. From a writing perspective, they let me put things out quicker and give me fewer excuses to procrastinate. On the other hand I love reading long chapters. Sigh...

The walk from the skeleton brothers house to the shop was one that frisk could have probably done while blindfolded in a blizzard. And in fact, had done so on at least one ocaision. The walk passed all the bits of Snowdin people thought of when they thought about Snowdin. Snow, for one thing, a librarpy, Grillbys, more snow, the ever present gyftmas tree, and snow. And in truth that was about all there was to the town. There were houses but none besides the skeleton brothers was particularly interesting. Though some nights Grillbys was interesting enough for the whole town.   
Frisk sighed… that was it really. That Sigh summed up Frisks emotions quite handily. General tiredness, emotional and physical, mixed with resignation... Sigh.  
Frisk walked into the shop. The shelves as always lined with whatever the waterfalls brought that week. The bunny behind the counter was reading what passed for a newspaper. Seeing frisk she made a surprised squeaking noise and shoved the newspaper under the counter. Frisk suppressed a grin and lowered their voice to a disappointed rumble “Good to see you're taking good care of the place.” The rabbits eyes darted around the shop.  
“Um… no.. i was just uh checking the.. Uh…” frisk devolved into heaving laughter holding the doorway to steady themselves.   
“You always think I’m being serious!” Frisk devolved into giggles and assorted snerking noises. “Every time!  
“you're so mean Frisk.” The blushing leporid huffed indignantly and pulled the slightly crumpled newspaper out of the counter. “You made me put a crease through the junior jumble.”  
“Well with enough therapy I'm sure that you'll recover somehow.” Frisk walked behind the counter and hung up their coat.“How's business carrots”  
“AND THAT NICKNAME” The furious angora threw up her hands in rage, losing the newspaper once again. Frisk watched it land on a pile of hats by the cash register. “My NAME is Theodora Burrow! NOT CARROTS!” the rabbit grimaced as if the nickname came with a taste very much divorced from its namesake. Frisk’s grin grew ever wider.


	3. A little left to the beginning.

“You will never succeed.” The voice sounded like a razor looked. Its speaker looked like the sound of a gun. They were broken promises and empty hope given heaving form. They skittered around the edge of Frisks vision. They were wherever Frisk didn’t look. Only appearing in full when Frisk wasn't looking at anything at all. It was always difficult to talk to Gaster. He was always such a downer. “There does not exist a timeline in which you could possibly succeed!”  
Frisk walked alone. Well, present company excluded. Gaster was forever hounding their steps these days. They thought the wetlands were the prettiest area of the underground. Also the most melancholy but perhaps that wasn't a surprise. “The chance of your success is so hilariously improbable that i am absolutely appalled by how you insist on trying.” Frisk had nearly made it to the wishing room. That was always nice.   
The wetlands were the only place that it rained in the underground. Recycled rain but rain nonetheless. Magic bubbled up here. The water would crawl up the sides of the cavern eventually falling back. The drops made a damp staccato on the slick stone, the effect was close enough to rain to fool those who had never heard the real thing. Frisk always hurried by this part of the wetlands.   
Snowdin, the Hotlands, the Core, all the other places in the underground had an ethereal quality. They were so unexpected and bizarre that they seemed to have a life of their own. The wetlands just felt like someone's broken idea of the surface. Maybe that's why the people who came from the wetlands were the most eager to escape the underground.  
Frisk ducked under a low passage. The wishing room was as resplendent as ever. Frisk wasn't sure what type of crystals the ceiling was made of. They were pretty whatever they were made of. “If you believe you have even the SLIGHTEST chance of success then you are absolute imbicile!”  
Frisk paused by an echo flower “Thousands of people wishing together can't be wrong!” Frisk smiled and kept walking. “You know Gaster, I don't think success is really the point.”


	4. Prologue

“Why do you care about me?” The voice was a breath, so soft that frisk found themselves keeping still so as not to harm the silence. Also Asriel was currently on top of them so that was a consideration. The flowers were soft at least, and Asriel wasn't all that heavy. “I've done nothing to deserve this. Why are you being so nice to me.” Asriel's hands were wrapped around Frisks middle and the held on like… well, like it was the last thing they would ever hold onto. “I killed you.” Asriel heaved, frisks sweater was damp with moisture. “I killed you and I ENJOYED IT!” Asriel sobbed and clutched frisk tighter.  
Frisk was crying as well. Though their tears came quieter than the monsters. This was always the hardest part, always. Leaving Toriel was difficult, but frisk knew that they would eventually be reunited with her. But here in the last minutes before they had to reset they were always so… helpless.   
Asriel turned his face up from Frisks chest, tears still coursed down his face “Don't you have better things you could be doing! Im.. IM” Asriel's face was red from crying, his fur wet with tears. “IM WORTHLESS! WHY ARE YOU SO NICE TO ME!” Asriel convulsed, frisk only held on tighter.  
Frisk held on for a long time, Asriel's breakdown passed eventually, occasional hiccups and muffled sobs faded into sleep. The sun had apparently gone down on the surface. The cave with the flowers was dark, the rays of sunlight from the surface fading into the perpetual twilight of the undergrounds crystals. Frisk rubbed Asriel's back as he slept. It was as much to comfort themselves as it was for Asriel's sake. 

When Frisk awoke they were alone. Nothing but themselves and the flowers. Frisk rolled onto their side and hugged their hands to their stomach. They had to find a way to save Asriel. If it had been a choice they would have made it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for whatever reason If you put end notes on one chapter but not on subsequent ones it uses the old ones for all the chapters. I don't know if this is a feature or not. If anyone knows tell me.

**Author's Note:**

> *Magical objects, much like magnets, form lines of energy around them. Powerful souls can also show these behaviors. When these lines snap and reform they make a Northern Lights of sorts above their source.


End file.
